Category Archives: News Item

Why?

 

leaving the scene of the crime.
leaving the scene of the crime.

 

Some bright spark left the word ‘Why’ outside my front door the day after last week’s Vendetta came out. Once again, the word was formed out of sea life, although this time there were several crabs and a starfish. At least I assume the word was ‘why’ as what may have been part of the central bar of the ‘h’ was still alive and some distance down the road. I beleive this to have been a childish prank.

No big news story this week, dear readers. The excitement with the new grave has led to much speculation, but as yet no answers. Science is slow, I am told. Anyone wishing to view the bones and grave goods can do so at the library.

Missing

No definite updates on last week’s missing persons, although there have been a few suspected sightings. This week Regan Higsbottom and Endora Frog-Jones have also been reported missing. This is the second time Regan has been announced as lost this year. How we can have lost so many people on an island this small, I do not know. Search parties will be out this Saturday. Please help if you can.

Who Founded Hopeless?

our ancestor?
our ancestor?

 

Digging for a new privy in his back garden this week, Jasper Fingle uncovered what may be the oldest grave on the island. Bones and artefacts found in the grave raise questions about who was here first and how long the island has been settled. Local historian and schoolteacher Arlingham Jones told me “It’s the most exciting find the island has ever seen. The body is very old. It predates all records of settlement here. The remains are being kept in the town’s library for further study, and the items with them will go on display there.”

 Alongside the remains were found a copper mirror, a pot, and several items as yet unidentified. Reverend Davies said “Clearly this wasn’t a proper Christian burial. We should carry out a proper funeral at once.” Doc Willoughby has been asked to examine the remains and Jasper Fingle is proposing to dig over the rest of his garden in the hopes of finding more graves.

Perhaps

I would ask, 'why?'
I would ask, 'why?'

 

Perhaps’ a single word formed out of the mortal remains of sea creatures, was this week found outside our Town Hall. No small amount of care and effort must have gone into dragging those fishy remains inland and arranging them – all in the dead of night.

What does it mean? It’s hardly a strong word. ‘No’ might have constituted a protest against the night of dancing held there and we could have looked to our religiously conservative citizens for an explanation. A word of anger or rebellion might have suggested the work of frustrated younger citizens. I can think of many powerful, meaningful words to have shared (although I would never employ the medium of rotting fish), but ‘perhaps’ is not one of them. The ambiguity is maddening! Why go to such effort in order to say so little?

 By midday, wild birds had eaten most of the word. I kept watch there myself and can assure my readers that none of the word will make its way into any meals or food products.

Mushroom Danger!

 

This could happen to you.
This could happen to you.

 

If you don’t know what it is, don’t eat it! That would be good advice for any new and untried food stuff. (I’ve had seventeen claims that The Crow’s Windfall Pie was poisonous). Mushrooms are coming into season. Some are very good to eat. The little white ones with black undersides are fine, but do not mistake them for the little white ones with a rather unwholesome green underside. Not only will these make you sick, but they are guaranteed to give you at least a week of wishing you were dead. Make sure your children are not tempted by the big shiny red ones – remember what happened last year with the hallucinated demon scare? And the year before when young Jaime Boff set fire to the town’s library because he was convinced it was going to eat him.

 

If in doubt, don’t! And that goes for novelty foodstuffs offered by The Crow, as well. Windfall Pie is now off the menu, I am pleased to tell you, replaced by ‘Roots in Pastry’ which sounds a good deal safer.

 I no longer have boils. Thank you to everyone who expressed concern.

Eating my words

your humble editor
your humble editor

 

Last week, dear readers, you may recall I was rather strident about The Vendetta being a free press. As those copies return to me for pulping and re-use, I feel I am eating my words. Since the last publication, I have suffered the most vile outbreak of boils on every part of my body. I will spare you the details.

Annamarie Nightshade visited me as I was poised to compose this week’s paper. She tells me that the boils are of her own making, and that, if I cease printing Doc Willoughby’s adverts, my discomfort will cease. As a journalist, I feel troubled. But, my journalism has not benefited from not wanting to show my face, nor from being unable to sit down comfortably.

 I have reached a compromise in that I will print no further articles from either party, at least on the subject of medicine. However, if I am still disfigured and suffering when the time comes to write next week’s news, you can be quite sure whose side I shall be taking henceforth. Equally, if Annamarie Nightshade proves to my satisfaction that she does indeed have the power to give, and remove such afflictions, I will be obliged to hold her skills in much higher esteem in the future.

Ominous Silence

life continues.
life continues.

 

For days now there have been no crows, no shrieks. Somehow the silence is worse. Is it really over, or is it a matter of time before new horrors come? My mind invents fresh nightmares with each unfamiliar sound, sees danger in every shadow. I am not alone in this. I see the fear in people’s faces. On the streets, people tell me of their anxiety. The tales are dreadful and too numerous to repeat. There has been no other news. We wait, and we fear, and somehow ordinary life goes on. The Swann Bakery has a two for one offer on muffins this week.

What haunts the skies?

Blood and feathers
Blood and feathers

 

Somewhere above us, hidden by the fog, strange and violent things are happening. The screams are enough to terrify the boldest man amongst us. The blood and feathers fall everywhere. Something in the clouds is killing the giant black birds that appeared last week. It doesn’t appear to be eating them, but pulling them apart and scattering their remains over the town.

 

What happens when there are no more birds? Will this latest fiend then unleash itself upon us, or will we be faced with something even worse? I dare not think.

The Horrors Continue

scenes worsen
scenes worsen

 

Last week I warned you of the giant slugs. They came up from beneath the ground, inevitably, eating everything in their path. To my certain knowledge, Mathias Smut, Dignity Possit and Lissa Gardens were all victims of these monstrosities. Witnesses say that they went too near the cracks, were smothered in slugs, and eaten alive. Nothing remained to be buried in any case. The good people of Hopeless armed themselves this week with clubs, pointed sticks and pitchforks, to good effect, keeping at bay these flesh eating nightmares.

                At last the weather broke, ending this unnatural heat and returning us to familiar fogs and drizzle. Then the birds came. Black as crows, but much larger. They ate the slugs, and at first this seemed like a good thing. Then we ran out of slugs and now the hungry predators sate themselves on livestock. As yet, no human inhabitants have suffered a bird attack, but it’s just a matter of time. Be vigilant dear readers, and do not leave your home without a large stick.